The driver is already waiting outside but Elio snatches the car key and rounds the car, getting into the driver's seat but not before barking at me, "Get in."

I don't need to be told twice, even though I highly doubt he's in the best state for driving. Once I shut the passenger seat door, Elio slams his foot on the gas pedal and the car zooms off.

Silently I buckle my seatbelt and clutch the door's armrest. I steal glimpses of his flaring nostrils, knuckles turned white from the force of his grip, and clenched jaw, and hard, flinty eyes.

As he speeds down the roads, my heart beating almost as fast, I dare to attempt again. "Elio-"

"Don't," he snaps, not sparing a glance at me as he whizzes past other cars.

I scratch my forehead and shift on my spot uncomfortably. "You're going to get us killed."

A harsh laugh tears out of his mouth. "As if you haven't already signed our doom."

Dramatic.

I roll my eyes and purse my lips. "I get it you're mad but-"

"No, you don't. You don't fucking get it," he interjects sharply. At last, he slightly slows down the car and I draw a deep shaky breath.

Elio looks at me. "I don't want to hear your explanations; in fact, I don't even want to hear your voice right now. So just don't." 

I sink into the seat and nod.

The rest of the ride is spent in palpable tension as my fingers keep fidgeting nervously. In a vain attempt, I try to analyze my own decision just to be able to defend myself once he decides to talk and hell breaks loose.

From the moment I turned seventeen, a few months into my senior year of high school, Dad settled I'll ultimately study law. Since then, I began visiting his law firm thrice a week. At first, he made me read most of the related books and after I got a hang of that, he began sending me to his friends and asked them to let me accompany them through every single step of their cases' trials.

When I finally graduated from law school, I already had some experience thanks to Dad. Once I become a prosecutor and began picking up organized criminal activity cases, it was proven to me, the harder and riskier the case, the more satisfying the outcome.

Dying for being loved and cared for, even by one person— my father, since I don't have a mother— chasing the more dangerous cases became a habit. All in hopes of earning a sliver of affection.

Toxic on so many levels.

The need to be loved and cared for was too strong to let me put an end to our relationship. I've never done anything wrong to not deserve to be loved... yet, it's seemingly the only thing I never seem to have.

I sigh and run my fingernails up and down my cheek. But none of these validify my choice of going after those two men. Sure, running after anything with a higher risk and screaming danger has become instinctive, but I can't defend myself. It was purely stupid and emotional.

The car screeches to a halt.

Elio jumps out of the car and I get out too. As I step to the front of the car, Elio grabs my hand and drags me to the house.

The man guarding the entrance door opens it for us, Elio storms inside, pulling me along with him. Instantly Marco's worried face hurrying from the other side of the house flickers a little hope in me.

"Elio-" He starts but Elio cuts him off.

"Don't."

Not slowing down Elio heads straight to the staircase leading to his office, his hold is firm on my hand, but not tight to hurt as he marches up the stairs almost causing me to trip over my feet.

"Elio, che ne dici se parliamo prima? La situazione non è così grave e dopo esserti calmato, parla con Cerise," Marco worriedly says, his brows furrowed with concern as he follows us.

"Non interferire cazzo," Elio growls, not sparing a glance at Marco as we reach his room.

He sends me to his room first.

"Elio," Marco tries again.

"Fuck off," he snarls and slams the door shut in Marco's face.

I flinch from the sound as I retreat a few steps, putting as much distance between us as possible.

Anger radiates from him. When he turns, the pure fury glinting in his dark eyes makes my breath hitch and the back of my thighs hit the edge of his desk.

Elio paces the room across from me as he furls and stretches out his fingers repeatedly. He faces me, his eyes wide and wild. "I fucking told you not to screw this up." He jabs his index finger at me before waving his hand around and continuing, "I told you to stay close to me. I fucking told you to not start a fight, don't go anywhere without me or Pietro." He plants his palms on the backrest of the loveseat across from me. "Did I not?" he roars.

I drop my gaze to the floor.

"Do you have any idea in what position you've put me?"

I chew the inside of my cheek, willing myself to look up. Despite his corded neck and flaring nostrils, he's still not as scary as Dad. "No one told you to hold that guy at gunpoint."

My comment freezes him and he straightens himself, taking his hand off the sofa. I watch him apprehensively as he points at himself, raising his eyebrows.

"I shouldn't have held him at gunpoint?" he echoes with disbelief and an incredulous laugh tumbles out of him, a bone-chilling sharp sound, not even carrying an ounce of softness his real laugh does.

I screwed up again. Internally I smack myself as I scramble to fix it. "Or maybe not." I shrug. "Y-you're the one in the mafia, you probably know better," I mumble.

"I do know better and I fucking told you not to get yourself, and us, in trouble. But no! When do you ever listen to me!" He throws his hands up.

I cross my arms as I lean slightly to the desk, allowing my tense muscles to relax. "I didn't think that would happen."

"Of course," he yells. "Because you never fucking think before you do anything." He rounds the loveseat and the small black coffee table, stopping in front of me, all the while, raging on, "Because you're so damn obsessed with your stupid goals and your nonsense prejudices that you've turned fucking blind. Now, look what you've done."

I tilt my head, a few strands of my open hair fall over my face as I look away. "I'm sorry."

He barks a harsh laugh. "Sorry is not enough. An apology is not going to fix this mess. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He waves his hand at the door before going on, "I pulled a gun on a fucking capo's son because he insulted me with the way he was behaving with you. I couldn't pull the trigger because he's Enzo's son and now I've degraded myself. On top of that, holding a high-ranked dude at a gunpoint is the literal declaration of war. Wanna know what Enzo said?"

Elio comes steps to me, leaning down slightly as his glacial glare cuts through me. "He'll kill every single person in my Cosca." Elio jabs the air between us. "All because you couldn't sit through a single sitdown which you asked to join."

Yikes.

"Can your lame sorry fix this mess?" he bellows turning and stalking away from me and kicking the black armchair on our left with all his might. I wince. He paces up and down the small space between me and the coffee table clenching and unclenching his hands.

I stare at the black table, shame crippling my thoughts.

"I warned you, if you turn out to be more trouble than worth, I'll get rid of you. Are you on a fucking suicide mission?"

I inhale sharply and ponder over how to defuse the situation but the longer I gaze at Elio, one thing becomes evident, he isn't planning on killing me. At least not immediately.

"I'm sorry," I whisper and I truly mean it.

He shoves his hands through his hair and halts. "My men are going to die, my business is going to suffer, all because of you." He hollers landing a hard kick on the coffee table splintering it in half.

I recoil, my breath hitching in my throat. Reminders of the uncountable number of times Dad was pissed off and used to throw things like glasses and bottles of liquor, shout and curse at me resurface in my mind.

At least Elio hasn't directed any of his kicks my way, I bitterly note.

"Well congratulations, you achieved what you wanted so badly. Marianos are going to get wiped out."

"Maybe there's a way I can fix it," I offer feebly.

He snorts, taking another step toward me and planting his feet wide apart, and folding his arms. "After what you did-"

I interrupt him. "I know, you have no reason to believe me, but I really didn't think things would escalate so quickly."

"The longer I think about it, the angrier I get." His voice comes out low and raspy from all the shouting and wavers from the force he's using to control his temper. He shakes his head and presses his mouth into a thin line.

"I kept warning you," he adds after a beat. I chew my bottom lip and look away. He turns and steps over the broken table. "I specifically told you to stay the fuck away from Gianni." His voice raises again. "But you." He shakes his head, glowering at me as he barrels towards me. "You've screwed me over!"

He comes too close with his eyes wide gleaming with anger; his arms are wide apart and when he raises his hand the years of physical abuse inflicted by Dad kicks in. I flinch so hard away from him, squeezing my eyes shut as though my body expects a blow after suffering the same thing for over ten years.

A second too late I realize my state and reopen my eyes to gather my composure but Elio is staring at me with horror.

Shit. He was going to run his hand through his hair and now he's staring at me like I've kicked his puppy.

With the same hand, his index finger curls to himself as he waves it and retreats a step. "I've been nothing but nice to you considering the shit you've been throwing at me, and this is what I get?" He holds his palms up taking another step back.

Great. Now he's offended and angry. What a perfect combination.

"What do you take me for? Sure, I'm not a good guy, but this," he pauses and motions his hand at me.

"You're overreacting," I say as calmly as I can.

He stares at me incredulously before shaking his head and pinching his fingers together. "You calling me asshole, monster, whatever the fuck that crosses your mind, is completely expected, but this is insulting. I have not once even hinted at harming you-"

"Except for threatening to kill me every five seconds," I retort, earning a glare from him.

"Yes, I kill, clean, quick, and simple. Regardless of the bad blood going on between our families, I haven't once allowed anyone to harm you, I haven't hinted at physically hurting you and you stand here acting as if I've been abusing you for the entire time you've been here." He purses his mouth and shoves his hand through his hair, dishevelling it even more. "Unbelievable," he mutters.

I straighten up, internally cursing myself for not having a grip over my body. "It was a subconscious reaction," I begin and study his features as I choose my next words.

His annoyance gives place to an evaluating expression. Brows furrowing, he observes me, his gaze burns into me with growing intensity as if he's trying to piece a complicated puzzle together.

I snatch my chance and continue as softly as I can, "You're already riled up and looking for excuses to reflect your-"

"Because of the shit you've caused," he fires back.

I grind my teeth and nod. "Yes. I made a mistake."

"And I'll be paying the price."

"True, but give me a chance to fix it," I offer and take a tentative step toward him.

A cruel laugh escapes him. "How will you do that? Let Gianni fuck you bloody?"

I inhale sharply and fist my hands. "You're being mean."

"I'm being realistic."

I bite back an insult and hold his gaze. "Provide me evidence, I'll make a case, and we'll find a way to send it to a prosecutor either here in Italy or in the States, wherever that'll give the highest outcome. We'll manage to rip some part of Esposito's business, he'll be busy cleaning up the mess and not strong enough to oppose you."

He stares at me blankly for a moment before disregarding my suggestion and asking, "Why did you leave in the first place?"

I lick my bottom lip, considering my options. Telling the truth and lying will probably have equally shitty reasoning behind them, ticking him off again.

He arches an eyebrow expectantly at me as he waits for an answer.

I rub my forearm and draw a deep breath. "I saw two men," I pause, trying to craft the next part of my answer in a way that wouldn't piss him off more than necessary.

He chuckles with disbelief. "Wow, such an odd and unexpected thing to encounter in a fucking nightclub," he sarcastically mocks.

"I wasn't done," I snap and he huffs. "They were staring at me for way too long and it seemed like they knew me, or at least knew what was going on."

He folds his arm and rests his other elbow on it while rubbing his chin. "Let me get this straight, you saw two suspicious men, and instead of informing me or Pietro, you decided the best thing to do was investigate it yourself?"

"You guys were busy."

He nods his features hardening. "Four days ago you almost got shot in the head, a few guys were waiting to kill you in a hotel and the next day your judge friend's dead body shows up here. Now you find two suspicious men and instead of notifying us, people who can protect you, you conclude why not go after it yourself, without a single weapon, clueless on any form of self-protection. Was this your thought process?"

"I needed to do something, I was useless there," I shrilly defend myself.

"You're literally chasing death." He throws his hands up and starts pacing again. "You know you're tangled with us, you know they could've been from Cosa Nostra and yet you wanted to go alone."

"They didn't look Italian."

My answer halts him. He spins and frowns at me.

I cross my arms and lift my shoulders.

His eyes narrow. "You thought they were your father's men," he bitterly announces.

"Not entirely," I mumble and look away. Surely, I was hoping they'd be.

"And I started a war because of you," he mutters, a cynical smile lifts a corner of his mouth as his cold eyes fixate on the library.

"I'm sorry, it was dumb, I wasn't thinking and pretty much acting on desperation," I admit and his gaze jumps back on me, his brows raising with surprise.

"At this point, I don't know who's stupider, you, for being you, or me for trying to keep you alive."

Begrudgingly I continue even though uttering the truth out loud, and to him, is way easier in theory, but it's worth a try, I hope.

"I needed to do something. It's been so long since I've been stuck here with nothing to do while you guys are making moves, including on my behalf. I just wanted to be... useful, I guess. I'm sorry I screwed things up, I couldn't have imagined it would turn out like this, and I'm not giving excuses or defending my reckless choice, I'm just explaining why I did it."

He stares at me blankly, his emotions are so well hidden I can't even guess the direction they're headed.

"I'm sorry, I really didn't want to cause trouble for you." I clasp my hands in front of me and break away from his consuming gaze. My eyes jump from one item in the room to the other while my thumbs fiddle together.

After a long while, Elio sighs heavily. His shoulders have dropped and his body is no longer tense, just resigned. "I know," he softly says, pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing his forehead. "But that doesn't change the fact you've messed up big time."

"I know."

Our eyes lock together and we silently hold each other's gaze with the few paces of space between us.

"Your idea was good, I'll inform the others to get to it," Elio says and I can't help the little smile threatening to form across my face.

"I promise I'll listen to you next time."

He huffs a laugh and shakes his head. "If you don't, I will kill you."

I grin and nod. "I know."

In three deliberate strides, Elio plants himself in front of me and breaks our eye contact as he grabs my wrist. His touch is careful and feather-light, making me frown with confusion and my heart race.

"Does it hurt?" he tenderly asks, inspecting my hand. A bruise has already formed on the spot Gianni had gripped my wrist. Elio's fingertips trace the mark as he scans it. His touch hyper-alerts my senses, shooting tendrils of tingling sensations up and down my arm.

"Oh, uh," I fumble with words, as heat rushes to my cheeks. "I-it's alright, my skin just bruises quickly," I mumble and avoid his eyes once he looks up, searching my face.

"It doesn't seem to be fractured... I can tell someone to bring ice for-"

"No no no." I shake my head and pull my hand away from his grasp, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "It's fine. Thanks."

His scrutiny burns into me but I don't glance up to meet it.

A long moment of silence passes between us, but it doesn't help to calm my racing heart.

"Cerise," he starts and my eyes jump up to him; from the way he's studying me, he wants to ask something.

Before he gets the chance to utter the question, I say, "It's been a long night and I'm sure you have a lot to catch up with, we'll discuss the details tomorrow morning."

I don't wait for his answer and slip away from between him and the desk behind me and hurry out of the room. Not once do I dare to glance back, all the while feeling his eyes boring into me until I'm out of his room and rushing down the hallway to my bedroom.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Long chapter, I know (I'm sorry), but hey, it was a rollercoaster, wasn't it? =)))

Tell me your thoughts, on their argument, Elio being offended, Cerise apologising and this last scene hehehe I love to hear your thoughts =)

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, vote if you did! :)

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡